


Taking Flight

by monimala



Category: Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gap Filler, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 22:43:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14628576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monimala/pseuds/monimala
Summary: So, yes, I totally wrote filth based ona 52-second clip of Han and Lando's first meeting. Sorry not sorry. Blame the capes.“Everything you’ve heard about me is true.”





	Taking Flight

_“Everything you’ve heard about me is true.”_

The Mandalorian twins. The shipwrecked stormtrooper on Jakku. The orgy on Jedha with at least three Guardians of the Whills—who aren’t even supposed to have sex. It’s all true. Han remembers laughing off the rumors. He’s never underestimated his own charms, but seducing a bunch of monks? Pretty damn-near impossible. Unless you’re Captain Lando Calrissian, apparently. A man who just has to smile across a sabacc table to get what he wants.

Like Han. All of Han. Even the secret parts he’s never offered up to anyone. They’re Calrissian’s for the taking. Scattered across the barely cleared table. Confessed in sharp gasps and mindless grunts that echo across the now-empty room. “I can’t.” Han’s blunt nails scrabble for purchase. His hips move of their own accord, pushing back against the captain’s thighs. “I _can’t_ ,” he repeats, like it’ll stick this time.       

“You _can_ , baby.” Calrissian’s voice is like the smooth purr of a ship’s engine under his skin. Coaxing. Convincing. Hot against his ear. “Give it to me. Give me it all.”

_Fuckfuckfuck_. Sweat plasters his hair to his forehead and his forehead to the tabletop. He inhales deep through his nose and out his mouth. All he can feel is one strong arm pinning his shoulders, the other pistoning steadily below as the captain works one, two, three fingers inside him. Sloppy with spit and the come from Han’s own traitorous cock. All Calrissian had to do to get him there was touch him over his pants, grasp him and squeeze. And then it was nothing but mess. Belts unbuckling. Clothes being shoved out of the way. Wrestling him into a bent position that should be uncomfortable but is nothing compared to the slender digits in his ass, twisting and stroking. Playing him like some kind of instrument. It’s everything. It’s too much.

“Yeah, Han. That’s it. See how good you are? See how you’re taking me?” It should bug him. That Calrissian’s still saying his name wrong. But here, like this, crooned in encouragement, chased by hot, wet, kisses along his jaw and his neck, Han can’t put up much of a protest. In fact, he has no protests at all. The Kessel job’s out of his head. That Qi’ra and Chewie are waiting for him doesn’t matter. Yesterday and tomorrow mean nothing. All he feels is _now_. Four fingers prepping him. A blunt, hard, dick replacing them. Teasing him. Just like the words in his ear. “You want this, don’t you, Han? Is this what you really came here for? Is this what you heard in all of those stories, baby?”      

“Fine. Call me whatever you want,” he manages to say, just on the edge of hysterical. Adrenaline in his veins, need coursing through him like a drug. “Just. Don’t. Stop.”  

The captain’s laugh is smug and sexy. A little condescending. Like he knew Han would be this easy to break. Cocky bastard. He’d hate him if he didn’t want him, want _this_ , so much. And if he didn’t admire the same qualities in himself. Charm is the currency of the con, and they’re two sides of the same dirty coin. Han knew that when he walked in. When he took in Calrissian sprawled there amongst a bunch of grubby gamblers like a king holding court.

_“Is this seat taken?”_

_“If nobody’s in the seat, then it ain’t taken.”_

He gets it now. That elegant sprawl. It’s an invitation. But only for a select few. Only those who deserve to ride on that lap. Maybe that’s where they’ll go from here. A slow, rocking, grind. Face to face. No secrets. No lies. Just Calrissian’s intense focus and up-the-ante grin. The idea alone sends Han rocketing toward the edge, his cock leaking all over his belly and the table and the credit chips. A desperate whine spilling from his lips. “ _Please_.” He doesn’t know what he’s begging for. To keep going or to stop. “Please. Lando.”

Calrissian’s chuckle vibrates across the back of his neck. “You wanted my ship, Han Solo? You want my Falcon? You can’t handle her if you can’t handle her pilot.”

He’s the one being handled. Fingers digging into his flank. Gripping his hair. Keeping him anchored…or maybe helping him fly. Boosting his hyperdrive. Sending him straight to lightspeed, the stars roaring past him as they come—one after the other—in punishing spurts.

_“Everything you’ve heard about me is true.”_

They said meeting Lando Calrissian would change his life.

He laughed off those rumors, too.

Han won’t make that mistake again.

Just this one. As many times as he can.

 

 

 

-end-


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